


Priorities

by deleiterious



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Post-Time Skip, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28302579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deleiterious/pseuds/deleiterious
Summary: Claude and Byleth touch down in Goneril territory to follow up on an urgent message regarding the Agarthan threat. They expect to be swept directly into the war council room to discuss their future plan.Instead, a different kind of future plan gets discussed.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 74





	Priorities

**Author's Note:**

> And y'all thought I was done writing Claudeleth. Surprise! I still love them. Hopefully I'm not TOO rusty. As always, comments are immensely appreciated and incredibly motivating. 
> 
> Written for [Adian](https://twitter.com/Pepper_Poppers) as part of the #ChloresSecretSanta gift exchange. I hope you have a happy holiday season! <3

Byleth's hand meanders across the linen sheets, in search of a familiar warmth. When she doesn't find it, her eyes flicker open. She turns amongst the sheets and finds the other half of the bed is empty.

  
Byleth sighs quietly through her nose, resolving that she too must get up if he already has. She rises from bed and dresses with the simple efficiency of a mercenary, though she has the privilege now of going without the armor. Freshened up and ready for the long day ahead, she slips out of the room.

  
It does not take long to find him. Claude simply radiates with energy these days. He meets every morning with the vigor of a man whose purpose is clear and within reach. On his more romantic days, he chalks it up to being engaged to her, his star and future queen. The memory brings a small lift to her lips. 

  
Byleth locates him in the main study of their Derdriu summer lodge, a large and stately room handsomely furnished with the most remarkable things this city has to offer. Now, the room reeks of Claude's signature chaos, with maps strewn across velvet chairs and reports lilting off the top of an unused hearth.

  
She catches Claude rubbing the stubble along his jaw thoughtfully, a ship's manifest sprawled open in front of him. 

  
"Good morning, Claude." 

  
His eyes light up the moment he hears her. His expression, previously so pinched in thought, is now buoyant with affection. As she approaches the desk, he instinctively leans forward to give her a kiss. 

  
She smiles against his lips. She will never tire of of being kissed by him, nor of kissing him. She brings a hand up to his cheek, her thumb absently stroking the side of his face, and presses a kiss to his temple. "You've been up since dawn," she murmurs, equal parts amusement and rebuke. 

  
"Byleth," he shakes his head, a grin tugging at his lips, "I think we've got them." 

  
Byleth knows that look in his eye. The unmistakable gleam of revelation and design. 

  
"You did say that two months ago, too," she remarks, her light attempt at humor barely making a dent in Claude's enthusiasm. 

  
"I did say that, yes," he agrees readily, beginning to pace the length of the study. Claude's eyes dance across the ceiling. Byleth can practically hear his mind whirring. He turns abruptly to face her, the cape across his shoulder sweeping through the air. "I was wrong that time."

  
Byleth awaits the reveal patiently. This is Claude, after all. 

  
"They are hiding in the Throat."

  
Byleth straightens off the desk, eyebrows lifting. "The last of the Agarthans?"

  
Claude nods, sounding definitive. "It was right under our noses, By." He gestures to the manifest on his desk, where various inventory items have been circled. She remembers spending several long nights poring over the same document with him, pondering the mystery of its strangely consistent clerical errors.

  
But paperwork has never been Byleth's strong suit.

  
"You decoded the cipher?"

  
Claude chuckles. "I had us chasing our tails thinking it was a cipher. No, all along it's been a simple clue to their whereabouts. The Agarthans have a mole at the Throat, someone fabricating the numbers, just enough to keep them hidden and resourced."

  
Byleth nods, understanding. "Find the mole, and we find them."

  
Claude grins, pulling her off her feet and spinning her about the room. Byleth breaks into a sweet-sounding laugh as she clings to him. 

  
"We can finally put an end to this mess," says Claude, tipping his forehead to hers. 

  
The rest of the sentence lingers unspoken between them. 

  
_And get married._

  
"You sound so certain this time," Byleth says indulgently. 

  
"I am."

* * *

  
Claude sends word via messenger to the Gonerils at the Throat, an encoded message only decipherable through a shared key. Even with this precaution, he leaves the message brief and vague to prevent prying eyes from blowing their entire operation. 

  
When they arrive at the Goneril estate, the grounds are bursting with a flurry of activity, a far cry from its usual state. Servants dressed in Goneril house colors bustle past, their arms laden with fresh linens. A few porters haul unfamiliar suitcases up the front steps of the manor, so focused on their work they hardly notice the duo. Claude and Byleth exchange glances.

  
"Is Hilda expecting company?" Byleth begins, her brow furrowing. "I thought you said you arranged a private meeting. What is all this?"

  
Byleth watches at the gears in Claude's mind work to find an explanation, but before he can open his mouth, a familiar face pops out from the commotion. 

  
Hilda makes a beeline for them at top speed, beaming with unfettered joy. "You made it!" she squeals, throwing them both into a bone-crushing embrace.

  
Byleth, unprepared for such an exuberant greeting, stares at Claude over Hilda's shoulder and is rewarded with a matching stare back at herself. This is not their first time visiting since the unification ceremony, and it has not been long since they have seen her. Hilda often flies out to visit them in Garreg Mach and Derdriu, as her house is primarily responsible for Claude's most important international project: the official opening of Fodlan's Locket to the their neighbors.

  
Hilda, momentarily forgetting her strength, ushers them toward the foyer. Claude stumbles, nearly tripping over his own two feet. He jerks a glance over his shoulder at her. "Hilda, did you receive my message?"

  
"Sure did!" she pipes in brightly, eyes twinkling in a way that makes them both suspicious.

  
"And you did use the new key, right? Not the old one?" 

  
Hilda snorts. "Yes, _Claude_ , we used the latest key. I even made my brother do the deciphering so I wouldn't muck it up on accident. All that trouble for a marriage announcement, honestly. The _dramatics_."

  
Byleth freezes in place, becoming a monolith so immovable that even Hilda holds no sway. "Claude," says Byleth, her tone clipped and mildly threatening. 

  
Claude has seen Byleth cleave a man in half after using that exact tone of voice. It both mildly terrifies and arouses him. 

  
Claude clears his throat, certain he can get to the bottom of this obvious gaffe before heads go rolling. "Hilda," he shakes his head slowly, as if he's finally party to an obscure joke, "I think you've misunderstood my message."

  
Now it's Hilda's turn to freeze in place. " _Excuse_ me, are you telling me I gathered the Golden Deer here for nothing?"

* * *

  
"Congratulations!" shouts Lysithea upon their entrance into the Goneril manor. Her cry is followed by a loud pop and a stream of confetti flying through through the air.

  
The couple is immediately lifted off their feet. "Congrats, you two!" Raphael booms, grinning from ear to ear. Claude wheezes a greeting in response before they are released and set down.

  
Lorenz steps forward, taking a deep breath as if in preparation for an emotional speech. "What a joyous occasion to--"

  
Byleth blinks at all the Golden Deer assembled in the Goneril lobby. "We're not getting married."

  
Lorenz's speech ends prematurely in a screech of horror. 

  
Hilda sighs and gestures for the banner above them to be taken down. "Sorry, everyone, apparently Claude doesn't know how to--"

  
" _Yet_ ," interjects Byleth, trying to emphasize the obvious inevitability of her union with Claude.

  
"I'm sorry, so what are we doing here then?" Lysithea remarks, her trademark brusqueness back in the ensuing confusion.

  
"Claude, is this another one of your ridiculous pranks?" says Leonie, crossing her arms. "It's not very funny. I had to turn down a job offer to make it here in time."

* * *

  
Claude slumps into the guest bed fully-clothed, the sound of his long-suffering sigh muffled by the down pillow. Byleth sinks into the bed next to him, rubbing small circles into his back. Claude releases an appreciative sigh, then lifts his head to look at her.

  
"Leave it to Hilda to wildly misinterpret my message," Claude mumbles wryly, a hand snaking around Byleth's waist to seek comfort.

  
"To Hilda's credit," Byleth replies, the corner of her lip twitching in amusement, "it did sound like a wedding announcement. You didn't have to make it quite so enigmatic when you sent it off."

  
"Delicate intel calls for delicate methods, By."

  
"How unbecoming of a king to pout," Byleth remarks, unable to hold back a smile. 

  
Claude lifts her hand easily to his lips. "Will you have such a king, my queen?"

  
Byleth hums, pretending to mull if over. "Will I?" Her face cracks into a smile and she brushes a stray lock of hair from his eyes, wordlessly teasing him.

  
"By?" His breath ghosts into the air between them, soft and fragile like the beat of a butterfly's wings. "I want to marry you." 

  
Byleth feels an impossible warmth spread through her chest. She knows. She knows this more than she knows anything, but she loves to hear it all the same. Byleth cradles his face in her hands and kisses him. "I want to marry you too."

  
Claude pulls her bodily on top of him, grinning that boyish grin that she adores. "Seems foolish to put it off now," he says.

  
"Are you saying we should use this opportunity to announce our marriage?"

  
"I am saying," Claude begins to pepper her with kisses on the cheek, "our marriage has already been announced, however improperly. Why not give our friends and allies the celebration they want to see?"

  
Byleth startles, propping herself up to give him a wide-eyed look. "You want us to get married now?"

  
"We don't need to have the ceremoney now, By," Claude responds, voice soft as he tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "But why make them wait for an official announcement? It won't be long until the Throat is open and the Agarthans are neutralized for good."

  
"You want us to have an engagement party, here? Now?"

  
Claude shrugs, struggling to contain a smile at the very thought. "It's not very traditional, but when have we ever been?"

  
Byleth presses her forehead against his. "I don't mind. If that's what you want."

  
Claude takes her hand and brings it to his chest, right over his heart. She can feel the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm, beating for the both of them. "Is this what _you_ want?" 

  
Byleth takes a moment to close her eyes, to marvel at the warmth of her hand, to marvel at the steady sound of happiness and love thrumming through her veins. "Yes, it's what I want too."

* * *

  
"So, we are getting married after all," announces Byleth.

  
Hilda splutters water all over the map, half-choking as it goes down the wrong pipe. The cup nearly cracks against the marble floor before Holst's large hand sweeps it up just in time.

  
Byleth sits up out of her chair, and Hilda waves a hand to back her off.

  
"I'm fine," she coughs. "Fine." She takes a moment to catch her breath and then, loudly: "WHAT?"

  
"Obviously, our first priority is weeding out the Agarthan mole and taking out of the remnants of their movement, but since you already went through all the trouble," elaborates Claude, "we thought--"

  
"Oh, you two give me such a headache sometimes, but this is _so_ worth it."

  
"Now that that is out of the way," starts Byleth.

  
"Out of the way?" laughs Hilda, voice cracking.

  
"Perhaps we should convene about the mole some other time," suggests Holst sensibly. 

  
Before Byleth or Claude can get a word in edgewise, Hilda slams open the door of the war council room and disappears out of view. From down the hall, they all hear her voice announce, "Put the banners back up! We're having a party!" 

* * *

  
"So, about the Agarthan threat," begins Lorenz, blinking slowly at Claude from beneath his eyelashes, "how shall I be of assistance?"

  
"Lorenz, you're drunk," Claude retorts, taking the glass of champagne from him. "Also, how did you know about my intel? I've only told Hilda and Holst."

  
Lorenz laughs, too loudly to be proper. Claude wishes someone could document this behavior for posterity. "You're not the only one with eyes and ears in this domain, Claude."

  
Claude sighs as Lorenz primly retrieves his glass of champagne from his grasp. "Why didn't you inform me as soon as you knew?"

  
"By the time I was ready to send out a missive of my findings, I'd received an urgent message from Hilda regarding your impending marriage to the Professor." Lorenz waves the glass in the air, nearly splashing the liquid on his suit. "Priorities."

  
"Right," says Claude, glancing down at the engagement ring on his finger. His lips lift into a smile and he gazes across the room at his radiant fiancée. "Priorities."


End file.
